


Musically Inclined

by PeaceLilies



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceLilies/pseuds/PeaceLilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike grew up in a musical household and the memories and habits he developed help keep a part of his family with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musically Inclined

The garage is empty and quiet. It’s late in the evening, the other Burners are inside watching movies or playing games and talking. Mike can hear the noise, but it’s silent where he is; relaxing in its way. He’s working on Mutt, overhauling her engine and doing various other mechanical work that she needs done.

He’s humming to himself, singing a bit. It’s not something he really thinks about, it just kind of happens and he makes up words as he goes. He grew up in a musical household. He remembers sitting on a chair that was far too big for him, his father strumming at a guitar and his mother’s voice singing, carrying from the kitchen.

His mother would sing all the time. While she cleaned, while she gave him a bath, when she tucked him in at night, while they drove in the car, when he was sad, and when his father held her tight and they swayed back and forth in the middle of their kitchen together.

He remembers listening to her voice messages when he was in training as a kid, waiting for parent’s weekend. He remembers the way her voice lilted as she told him to be good, that she loved him, that she’d see him soon. He remembers his dad trying to sing along, how he and his mom would laugh. His dad couldn’t carry a tune to save his life. 

He remembers begging and pleading with his father to teach him how to play guitar and he had. Every moment they had to spare when they weren’t fixing things. He remembers, for his eleventh birthday, getting his ukulele.

He dreams that night, about his family. A memory, when he was young. He’s six again, bundled up tight in his green and black striped blanket. Mama is sitting on his bed and he’s in her lap, leaning against her. She has a story book in her hands and he can barely see the pictures as his little self is drifting to sleep and her singing surrounds him.

He wakes up, an odd mix of sad and happy and goes about his day.

The anniversary of his parent’s deaths sneaks up on him suddenly. Kane’s attack is merciless that day and he doesn’t register the date until it’s beeping at him in. How could he forget? How could he possibly forget…? 

Chuck finds him on the roof, legs pulled to his chest, rocking a little. He’s saying something but Chuck can’t hear until he gets closer.

I love you forever; I’ll like you for always… as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.

Mike’s forehead falls onto his knees, arms coming over his head and his shoulders begin to shake.

Hush, baby, hush. Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright…His mother would hold him so tightly and kiss all over his face after singing to him and blow raspberries on his cheeks and stomach and he would forget about crying and shriek with laughter.

Haha, not quite son, like this. One finger here, the other, yes, perfect…His father was so much bigger, with patience in spades, playing along as he learned. He’d carry him back inside on his shoulders and surprise Mama.

We love you, Michael. We love you so much…They would give him a big hug at the same time, smooshing him between them. Every time he saw them, every time they said good-bye.

“Mikey…” Chuck said, crouching close to Mike, concerned. The brunet peaked out from under his arms.

He opened his mouth to say something but Chuck wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. He knew. He was the only one who knew. He laid a cheek against Mike’s hair and just held him. It’s the least he could do.


End file.
